


Beginner's Game Theory

by Palgrave (goldenrod)



Category: Community
Genre: Friendship, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenrod/pseuds/Palgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Games night at Casa de Tranniebed rarely goes smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginner's Game Theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [_carly_](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=_carly_).



> My seventh submission for the community-tv Summer School Fic battle, this time with an awesome prompt from **_carly_** (‘Abed, Annie, Troy  & Britta have a board game night. Only problem is they can't decide on which game to play first.’) Hope it satisfies!
> 
> As ever, comments, feedback and kudos welcome and gratefully received!

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Britta vetoed Monopoly. Everyone else was, at that point, happy to just leave it at that and move on, but she just had to explain -- at length -- that as an anarchist she couldn’t possibly be seen to be playing something which condoned a corporatist philosophy of ruthless capitalism, privatization of essential public utilities and misogyny.

“Misogyny?” Troy echoed, brow furrowing.

“ _Second_ prize in a beauty contest?” Britta retorted triumphantly, as if that explained everything.

“Hey yeah,” Troy replied, eyes widening in dawning comprehension, “why not first prize?” Britta scowled at him. 

“Who else is going to see you?” Annie demanded. “The only other people here are us, and we’re not gonna tell anyone.”

“I can’t compromise my own soul, Annie,” Britta replied imperiously.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, we won’t play Monopoly. But what else can we play? You already vetoed Hungry Hungry Hippos because it condones animal cruelty and Risk because it supports the military-industrial complex, Troy won’t play Game of Life because he’s scared of the retirement home --”

“People just _disappear_ , Annie!” Troy insisted defensively. “They go in there and they’re never seen or heard from again. What happens to them? Here’s a clue; freaky experiments.”

“-- Clue’s out because Abed always challenges the solution --”

“It makes no sense,” Abed reasoned. “Why would the murderer kill the victim in a different room and then move his body to the stairs to be found? Why would he or she remain in the house while simultaneously leaving copious trace evidence of the crime and his or her involvement in the room and on the weapon the murder took place with ready for any amateur investigator to find? The most likely solution is that the murderer was an outside party who infiltrated the house, committed the crime and planted evidence framing one of the other guests to cover the tracks.”

“-- and I am _not_ playing the _Inspector Spacetime_ game again.”

Troy rolled his eyes. “We’ve _explained_ this, Annie; the four different boards represent each of the four quantum sectors of the galaxy.” 

“And they need to be different parts of the room to simulate time travel,” Abed added.

“I have a deck of cards,” Britta suggested, producing it from her jacket pocket. “Does anyone know any card games?”

Troy frowned. “You mean, like, _Magic: The Gathering?_ ”

Britta looked confused. “What’s that? No. I was talking about something like Rummy.”

Troy looked even more confused. “Rummy? What’s _that_?”

“How about Poker?” Annie suggested, mainly because she seemed to sense that Britta was starting to feel old.

Britta pulled a face. “Too commercial.”

“Well, we can use toothpicks instead of money.”

“I meant too commercialized. Poker used to be about the cards, but then Big Cards got it’s greasy money-grubbing hands on it and now it’s on TV and and everyone’s playing it; it’s just gotten too big.”

Annie rolled her eyes again. 

Troy suddenly slammed his hands on the table, making them all jump. “You guys,” he said quietly, “I think I have it. Now, I don’t deny that this is an unorthodox option, but if you all run with it I think we can play not just a game we’ll all enjoy, but possibly one of the greatest home gaming experiences in human history.”

“What?”

Troy spread his hands in a ‘ta-daa!’ gesture. “Home Calvinball,” he breathed.

Abed cocked his head, puzzled. Britta and Annie stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Isn’t Calvinball the game that Calvin and Hobbes played?” Britta asked.

“The one where they just made up stuff as they went along?” Annie demanded.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Troy insisted. “We can’t decide on a game to play because we all want to play different things. This way, we can play a game that all of us want to play because we all get to say what’s part of the game. For example: the Monopoly board.” Troy produced the Monopoly board and set it out on the table. 

“But I don’t want to play Monopoly,” Britta protested.

“And that’s fine,” Troy said, “Because we’re _not_ playing Monopoly. We’re playing Home Calvinball. We’re just _using_ the Monopoly board. Like so.” He put the car on the ‘GO’ square (Troy was _always_ the car). “First we pick our pieces. I picked my piece first, so that means I get to roll the dice first.” Britta and Annie each made noises of complaint, but Abed studied Troy’s actions closely, apparently observing where he was going with this. Troy picked up a dice, rolled a seven, moved the car. “Okay, now I’m on the chance square, so I get to pick a card --”

“Not so fast, Troy,” Abed interrupted suddenly. Troy looked up at him. “By landing on the Chance square with a seven on your first roll of the dice, you are in violation of the Central Galactic Alliance Treaty. This means that as the player sitting counter-clockwise from you, I have the right to call a Quarantine. _This_ means that your piece is put into lockdown for the next five moves unless you defeat the player of your choosing in combat.”

“This is crazy,” Britta complained. Annie, however, looked like it was starting to sink in. Living with Troy and Abed had this effect on people. 

Far from looking peeved at the rule coming out of nowhere, a huge grin split over Troy’s face. Calmly, he turned to Annie. “Annie. I challenge to you single combat.” Annie squeaked in confusion and indignation. “What is your response?”

“I...I...” Annie’s eyes lit up, and she grabbed Britta’s deck of cards from the table. “I am...” She began shuffling through them. “... going to play...” she found one, slipped it out, and slammed down on the table. “... the Activist card!”

It was an Ace of Clubs. Annie grinned at Britta triumphantly. Britta blinked, confused and still not quite caught up.

“The Activist card means that I get to transfer Troy’s challenge of combat to any activists in the room,” she declared. “unless they can roll the same number three times in a row or... or... or roll five numbers that when added up are divisible by seven!”

Everyone looked at Britta expectantly (and hopefully). She, in turn, looked like she was about to object again, but stopped. Narrowed her eyes at Annie. 

And held out her hand.

“Troy,” she ordered, “give me the dice.”

And so it went.

No one was quite sure how the game was going to end, but when they found themselves huddled under Annie’s bed with Annie wearing Abed’s Inspector Spacetime Hat, Troy and Britta tied together with a blanket liberated from one wall of the with one wall of the blanket fort, Abed wearing his shirt backwards, streamers all over the Dreamtorium, an impromptu vegetarian curry bubbling away on the stove and all four of them doubled over squealing and helpless with laughter, they decided that that was probably as good a finishing point point as any.


End file.
